Phoebe Rockwell, daughter of famed astronaut turned entrepreneur Alan Rockwell and proprietor of a small antique shop on the harbor, discreetly wiped her palm on the thin denim covering her hip before she shook the hand of a gentleman whose entrance was just announced by the tinkle of the bell fixed to the door. This gentleman, a Mr. Simon Allsworth, explained, with a clear determination, his quest to find the perfect birthday gift for his mother; a mission, he admitted to annually tackling at the last minute. Phoebe, not one to judge the gift-giving practices of potential customers, mutely waved off his frenetic apologies for the haste and evaluated, instead, her strange attraction to this man talking a mile a minute about shops in Prague with a disturbingly familiar air of adventure.
Friday, June 12, 2009
writing exercise: thumbnail sketch
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1 comment:
This is a romance novel dying to be written. An adventurous one.
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